You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.
The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.
The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...
-Walt Whitman
17.3.16
the spark
WHY a spark? A spark that fades, a fleeting firework? Why can't it be an eternal sunset over a still sea, fingers of waves gently crashing at your feet; an abundant blue sky instead of wispy clouds?
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